Rapture's Betrayal Read Online Free Page A

feather. I noticed yesterday that the last one mysteriously disappeared.” And then, gesturing for Kirsten to continue with the broom, Agnes Van Atta left her daughter’s bedchamber.
    Kirsten thought the day would never end. As she worked quickly to finish her chores, she found her mind wandering to the wounded soldier.
    What if he was bleeding again! She churned the butter with vicious pumps. He could be dying! She had to see him; she had to know.
    When the butter was ready, Kirsten placed the store in the coolest section of the pantry. Later the firkin—the vessel that held the butter—would join others in the cellar under the house. Kirsten was outside picking early greens for her mother when she saw her father wave to her on his way to the sawmill. Smiling, she called out a greeting. She was climbing the steps with the basket of peas when the top section of the Dutch door opened.
    Agnes glanced at her daughter’s full basket. Her face softened as she met Kirsten’s gaze. “There’s suppawn on the table,” she said gruffly. “You best come and eat while it’s still warm.”
    â€œBut, Vader —”
    Her mother frowned. “Your vader is too busy to eat right now.”
    Kirsten stifled her disappointment as she sat down at the table board. She looked forward each evening to the family meal. By this hour her chores were done and she could relax and enjoy her father’s attention.
    She saw a plate of olijkoecks at the other end of the table, and her spirits rose. She’d pilfer an extra share for her patient! If awake, he’d surely enjoy the fruit-sweetened fried batter cakes.
    Her heartbeat quickened. The man had to be alive—he had to! Night and the freedom to escape to check on her patient seemed a long way off.

    The night was warm; the day’s spring breeze had dried the dampness left by yesterday’s storm. It was after the klapperman’ s second visit that Kirsten slipped out of the house. In the barn, she changed quickly, donning the breeches she’d worn the day before and a clean shirt. She had taken up the satchel full of provisions for her patient and was ready to go when she heard male voices outside.
    â€œâ€™Ey, Will, are ye in a mind for a tasty morsel this night?”
    â€œWell, that depends now. What exactly do ye mean by a morsel?” The night reverberated with their shared laughter.
    Peering through a crack in the barn boards, Kirsten tensed. There are British soldiers on Vader’s property! She was trapped!
    Clutching the sack to her breasts protectively, she envisioned the injured man at the mill. The soldier was defenseless in his condition; she had to get to him right away—before the British found him!
    The Britons’ voices receded as they left the barn area. “I guess we’ve been spared, Hilga,” Kirsten whispered. She was startled when she heard a squawk and then angry clucks. “They’re stealing Moeder’s hens!”
    She frowned as she peeked out into the yard. The two redcoats were heading toward the village; one carried a limp chicken. She glanced toward the house and was glad to see that the windows remained dark. Thank God they didn’t wake Moeder and Vader.
    Tugging her dark calico cap over her blond plaits, she crept from the barn and headed toward the mill where the soldier waited.
    The old wooden structure was built a foot above the ground on a brick foundation. The dirt cellar underneath had been dug out after the construction of the main floor, leaving a small storage area not quite high enough for a man to stand up in, though Kirsten had no difficulty walking about the room. The wooden walls of the main level were splintered and rotten, but the foundation was solid, giving the cellar stability and making it a safe place to hide. The only access to the cellar room was a break in the foundation wall, which her grandfather had blocked off many years before the